Band Imagines

FIR - Ronnie Radke

Rough Patch

Y/N

You thought that you and your boyfriend of eight months Ronnie were the perfect match for each other. You liked the same things and your friends and family dubbed you the 'sickly sweet' couple who were overly touchy feely in the presence of others. But you and Ronnie didn't care because you were in love. That was up until you hit a rough patch and everything came spiralling down.

His fans had never really liked you; they accused you of stealing Ronnie from them and called you a slut and a gold digger because Ronnie was two years older than you. Normally you let the words roll of you but you noticed that Ronnie wasn't doing much to defend you from the hate. You understood that he and the band owed their success to their fans but you were his partner so deserved some defence.

Ronnie kept telling you to brush it off and that fans were just being fans. He didn't know about the Twitter dedicated to hating on you and sending intense death threats or the Tumblr hate blog that had a lot of followers and posted ways to break the two of you up and even how to get you out of the picture. It was scary and you felt like you were going through this alone.

One day you were scrolling through your Twitter when you came across notifications telling you to check out the Tumblr hate blog by the few fans who actually liked you. You opened Tumblr and found the blog and felt tears spring to your eyes. Ronnie was out doing a live interview with the rest of the band and obviously, the interviewer had asked him a question about you and he'd let it spill about your past depression and self-harm. He thought nothing of it because in his eyes he loved you no matter what and that it was an area that needed addressing. He could have dealt with the question in a different way that didn't make you a target.

The posts on Tumblr were all picking fun at you for cutting yourself when you were younger and some even stated that you should do the world a favour and slit your wrists so you bled to death. These posts were getting so many likes and then you're Twitter lit up like the fourth of July with the Twitter hate account sending you pictures of slit wrists and detailing how you should kill yourself.

You slammed the laptop shut and screamed. Ronnie had betrayed your trust and now he was just going to let his fans walk all over you like you were nothing. Enough was enough, he'd made his decision a long time ago and this just cemented it and that was that he chose his fans over the girl he supposedly loved.

It didn't take you too long to pack a suitcase and drop it by the front door. You wanted to leave before Ronnie returned so there was no confrontation but of course, your prayers couldn't be answered just this once.

"y/n I'm home. Why is there a suitcase by the door?"

You emerge from the living room and see Ronnie staring at your bag before he locks eyes with your red puffy ones, "babe what's wrong?"

He sounds concerned and takes a step towards you but you scoot around him. The anger was reaching the breaking point.

"Don't fucking babe me Ronnie. What gave you the right to spill my past to that interviewer? You didn't even think about me did you? I wanted to forget that part of my past and now you bring it to the fucking light for everyone to judge me..."

"y/n take a deep breath, no one's judging you."

You scoff, "here we go again playing the oblivious card Radke. Of course, I'm being fucking judged by your fans that hate me but you defend over me. I'm sick and tired of playing second fiddle to some hormone ridden fangirls, do you agree with them? Am I a gold digging slut who should slit her wrists and do the world a favour by ending my life? Fucking answer me, Ronnie."